


Pitfalls and Inceptions

by simply_kim



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Childhood Memories, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Other, Pre-Canon, Snooty Sanada, Suffering Kajimoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simply_kim/pseuds/simply_kim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a very young age, Kajimoto realised that not all pretty effeminate people were girls. So imagine his lack of surprise when he met his art project partner, 'The Bullied', the orangehaired kid with the metallic smile, Wakato Hiroshi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitfalls and Inceptions

 

* * *

**PITFALLS AND INCEPTIONS**

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Kajimoto Takahisa had a relatively normal childhood – _**relatively**_ being the keyword.

His earliest memories were his mother's incessant scolding over broken dishes and the stinging slap on the palm when she somehow discovered that once again, he had cut through the braids of the girl sitting in front of him in kindergarten class.

"Don't do things that would make other people cry." His mother often said. He remembered hearing it – even remembered the way she said it, all righteous and indignant. So he tried not to do nasty stuff again – deliberate or nay.

The crossroad came when he was eight and he was walking home from school. He accidentally tripped over a crack on the asphalt sidewalk, knocking another boy over, making the latter drop some sort of school project and end up crying. All he could do was help the boy up and piece together the whole project with glue. The end product was hideous but at least, the boy was not crying anymore – nor did he seem to hate him. He told his mother about it and she looked so proud of him.

"That's right Hisa-chan." She smiled gently, almost lovingly. "When you make someone cry by accident, be sure to make up for it any way you can." He understood what she said, somehow. So when he did something accidentally, he atoned for it by offering his assistance. He did not do it just because he wanted to... he just wanted his mother to look at him with pride in her eyes and love in her smile whenever he told her about the good deeds he did everyday.

It made him happy.

But happiness wasn't forever.

A year after, his parents got divorced and he was forced to stay with his grandparents. Apparently, his mother grew tired of him and his father... or so that was what his grandmother told him.

It seemed weird when he was suddenly introduced to a pretty person with a very sincere smile. He thought said person was going to be a great mother. He liked _her_ , that was a good start... only, he did not know that _she_ was in fact, a _**he**_ until he caught him standing in front of the hallway mirror, naked from the waist up.

So fact remained, his mother left with another man and his father, also with **another man**.

He realised that not all pretty effeminate people were girls. So imagine his lack of surprise when he met his art project partner, **The Bullied** , the orange-haired kid with the metallic smile, Wakato Hiroshi.

Wakato, as a child of eight years, looked all girly, with longish hair and big watery eyes. For a short while Kajimoto thought he was one – until " _The Bathroom Incident_ ". He saw the extra package and it was enough proof.

Strangely, it didn't matter to him if Wakato was not a girl, he enjoyed being with him and talking to him, their topics ranging from Eight Man to Nintendo. However, there was a major problem in the whole set-up.

Wakato was a bully's dream. With the way he looked and with his lack of muscle power, he was being targeted by almost everyone. Unfortunately for Kajimoto who was associated with him, he started being bullied too.

Everyday he went home scuffed and dirty – with Wakato tagging along behind him without even a single scratch. Kajimoto always took the brunt of their oppressors' anger.

It was hard being associated with persecuted people. Wakato was enough, if he added more to his friends list; he would be dead before his ninth birthday.

He had to do something or things wouldn't turn out pretty.

It was only a couple of weeks before Christmas when he began noticing patterns on people's behaviour. It was not limited to "Bullies" and "Bullied" – there were also people who could be categorised as "Eccentrics". They were the ones who were unique – those who were out of the ordinary but not so much so that they were harassed. In fact, they were considered cool.

He came to said conclusion when he and Wakato stood up for themselves and were tormented no more. After their miraculous recovery upon exchanging hits via bony fists, he noticed that Wakato seemed to give exceptional attention to the popular people in their class – even their teachers...

Thus started the mimicking.

It was frightening in a way, for he had them down pat, but it was fun watching him as well. Wakato was not **The Oppressed** anymore – he was an _**Eccentric**_.

Most people now loved him.

Kajimoto only had to convince himself that he was not jealous... after all he was his only friend.

**OxxxOxxxO**

Christmas was something he looked forward to each year, and even now when their family was broken, he was still looking forward to it. It was only then that he would be able to help his grandmother bake cookies to be placed with a glass of milk on the coffee table beside their huge Christmas tree for Santa Claus to find. That year, he swore, he would wait for him so he could give him his "What-I-Want" list personally instead of writing them on strips of paper and hanging them on the aromatic pine tree – maybe he could get a little bit more, who knows?

As he lay in wait by the darkened area near the door of the living room, he heard something resembling a tinkle of mechanical stuff. Excited, he peeked through the edge of the door frame. The one who entered their house on tiptoes was not whom he expected. The guy did not resemble the Santa Claus in the picture books at all! He was thin and was wearing black overalls, a black ski cap on his head instead of the flopped pointy red and white hat Kajimoto was so used to seeing in illustrations! Frowning, he decided to grab the nearest pot he could lay his hands on and with not so much as a breathy heave, threw it with all his might while screaming for his grandparents: "This is not Santa at all!"

Soon he learned that Santa Claus was fat, all smiley, and would _**never**_ wear black.

Their Christmas visitor was the panicky neighbourhood thief.

Of course he called Wakato out the next day. While they were preparing for a huge snowball fight with other kids, Kajimoto talked about the Santa impostor and in turn, Wakato told him about what happened to him. It seemed that he had given his grandmother taffy... and her dentures slipped off, stuck to the candy.

Kajimoto acknowledged it and promised himself he would do just the same if it would have the same effect.

He would have more candy for himself that way.

**OxxxOxxxO**

The snowball fight did not ensue for the sole reason that the other kids lost interest. However, he and Wakato were not disappointed and began to build a snowman instead. He had seen a lot of them when he visited Sapporo, and he decided he would ask him to try make one and preserve it in their refrigerator.

Bad idea.

The refrigerator space was too small for the snowman.

**OxxxOxxxO**

Science was uneventful but interesting.

Kajimoto wondered about the world, which he believed revolved around him. At least, that was what his mother said when she was still with him and she was brushing his hair before bed. He just couldn't believe she lied. It was either that or his teacher and the author of the book thought they were suns!

After class, as he was still thinking about what he learned in Science, he came upon a kitten meowing prettily in the school gardens. He wanted to pet it and play with it to the point of wanting to keep it, but he couldn't. He had a cat before and it clawed on everything that moved. He must protect his new furry key chain. After all, one should not hold anything furry-looking with one hand while holding a kitty in another. Eventually, one of the two things in hand would end up scratched to death on the floor. That would be messy and he didn't like to clean.

Besides, Wakato was allergic to cats.

**OxxxOxxxO**

Kajimoto was ten when he first encountered the sport "tennis". Oh, it looked fairly easy when one watched it, but unfortunately, he couldn't say the same when he began playing. He was jolted to the bitter reality that tennis was not a child's game and it should not be treated as such.

The fire burned in him and he decided to pursue the sport. He was not foolish in doing so; he was just out to prove himself that he could do something that required both power and strategy. Anything could be achieved by tenacity – and it was his most dominant trait.

Surprisingly, Wakato decided to do the same.

It made him happy even if he did not show it much. He wanted to share the feeling of euphoria over every win and pain over every loss. They had very different playing styles, and for once, he was satisfied with the way his friend was using his talent in mimicry. He cherished the feeling of being with an important person while doing what he liked best, or at least second best.

Hanging out doing nothing with Wakato was what he liked most.

In this life, he decided, a healthy friendship was the source of all contentment.

**OxxxOxxxO**

Kajimoto hated losing.

As the sun beat on his back, and he was sweating a lot, he glared hard at his opponent. There was something about the other boy that made him squirm inside. Even as he heard Wakato screaming for him to stop standing like a zombie and do something to get just one point before the game ended, he couldn't seem to drag himself to counter.

It was then that he started hating Rikkai-dai Fuzoku.

It was pure, the hatred he felt. It stemmed from the fact that the other guy was staring down at him, his look implying many things and none of them positive. He felt so small, and he hated feeling small. He hated feeling helpless and not in control. What was with this guy and his ridiculous serves? If only it was legal to cross over to the other side of the court and whack some sense into that stoic miscreant, he would've done it a thousand times over in the duration of their game!

Seething, he struggled to maintain his focus, and he succeeded somewhat as Wakato screamed his name encouragingly, loud enough for the people at the other side of the earth to wake up. He focused on his friend's voice, his verbal poking and he was suffused with the drive to grab whatever points he could – just not to give the evil guy satisfaction that he lost humiliatingly.

He tossed the ball up high, and, using the trademark move his father (in those rare moments he strayed away from his male lover) taught him a few months ago, bent his back forty-five degrees and, without taking his eyes from the ball sprung forward, hitting the slowly spinning orb right smack with the centre of his racket.

Then, as if by some miracle, the ball went in and he had stolen his first point of the game.

It took him only a few moments before he realised... His opponent hadn't moved.

With dread gripping his heart, a bead of sweat rolled down his brow.

_He's just going to let me steal a match and he would immediately end this game!_

**OxxxOxxxO**

"Hisa-chan, don't cry like that – it doesn't become you!"

The result was six games to one – and that one point didn't matter since the guy let him do as he pleased anyway.

Kajimoto was slumped miserably on the arena's locker room bench and was crying his eyes out. Wakato was there beside him, offering consolation of all sorts, rubbing circles on his back, trying hard to make him stop crying. It made him feel better that someone he was so close to was comforting him, but it embarrassed him to realise that they had, in fact, exchanged positions.

In their unusual brand of friendship, he was the strong one – the one who fought back and kept bullies at bay. He was the one who comforted Wakato every time something untoward happened. However, it pained him that today, things were so messed up that they switched places.

He felt as if he had lost so much.

"Stop patronising me." He sobbed, rubbing his eyes with fisted hands.

"I'm not patronising you Hisa-chan –"

"I should be the one comforting people, not the other way around!"

He heard Wakato heave a cleansing breath and let his hand drop to his side. "It doesn't hurt to receive sometimes." He murmured, bowing down and resting his forehead on Kajimoto's shoulder. "Sometimes it's necessary to depend on others and be selfish for attention."

Kajimoto rested the base of his temple against the top of his friend's head. For some strange reason, the tears weren't flowing too freely anymore. He closed his eyes. "I hate being a burden to anyone..." He murmured tiredly.

"Who says you are?" The redhead fired back quietly. "We are friends, we hold each other up."

He couldn't help smiling as their past endeavours together flashed briefly in his mind.

"You're right –"

"You careless losers finished bonding now?"

Surprised, they jumped apart, Wakato's head narrowly missing a collision with Kajimoto's. Upon learning who it was, as if mirrored, they glared.

His opponent earlier just threw his cap on another bench and rolled his eyes.

Kajimoto's eyes quirked as newfound irritation flooded his insides. "I'm going to beat you next time we meet on the tennis courts you evil jerk!"

_I will make sure you'll look up at me on the flat of your snobby bum, Sanada Genichirou!_

**OxxxOxxxO**

He was twelve when he stepped into the complex world of junior high. There was a certain degree of terror in his heart as he walked down the halls of his new school – Jyousei Shounan. It wasn't as if he was here at gunpoint. He had a purpose, and the current coach gave an offer he couldn't refuse.

Hanamura-sensei promised she would make a masterpiece out of him.

He had to make himself a better player if he wanted to beat the Rikkai jerk this year!

"Oi, Takahisa!" Startled, he looked up and gave a small smile. Raising a hand he walked faster, finally seeing a familiar face in the throng that composed the members of the academe. "Get your ass over here!"

His best friend stood by his decision and decided to enter the same junior high. "No shouting in the halls, Hiroshi!"

Wakato grinned at him and made a show of tucking hair behind his ears. "You just did the same thing, _baka_."

This was going to be an interesting three years.

**OxxxOxxxO**

He and his best friend fought against all odds and ended up controlling their tennis club. They made their way, pushing luck and defying expectations until they were high up in the club's roster.

Their coach, Hanamura, may not like it that he was named captain since she favoured their teammate Shinjou better than anyone, but he felt a dark sort of pride that he and Wakato were able to best her judgment over something important. After all, she made a regular fuss of declaring the lanky guy to be her 'Ultimate Masterpiece' and they ended up beating him in all their games together – _Deep Impulse_ or no.

He smirked. Something made sense to him and Wakato concerning their coach though – apart from the fact that she was a pervert who wanted really young boys – they found her coaching beneficial. He realised that facts were important, statistics were important, and lastly, too much chumminess on the tennis courts was a huge no-no. That made everything difficult for him and his ever-enthusiastic friend. They loved supporting each other in the past after all.

But it was just that – the past, and they had to move on. It didn't necessarily mean that they should stop being friends because, well, they just couldn't take it out of their blood. They had been together for so long that it would seem really empty if they decided to fall apart because of something as ridiculous as club rules.

So they settled for such thing called 'silent support'. Each one of them should just keep quiet while their respective games were being fought and each would just watch closely, expressing what couldn't be done in words through their gazes. They had noticed it upon seeing the Seigaku players Tezuka Kunimitsu and the captain Yamato Yuudai during their first year. No words were said although it was common knowledge that the sunglasses-happy captain was energetic and could be loud given opportune moments.

Deciding it was the best they could do, they went with it – and they were satisfied.

So now they were in their last year in junior high and he was watching intently Wakato's actions as his game with Seigaku's Kaidoh Kaoru ended. Kajimoto knew just how much pride he had, and even if it meant losing, he would never fight using his mimicking abilities alone – he had his own moves and he had his own techniques.

Then, amidst the screaming fangirls, everything ended. Wakato sauntered away from the playing field and out to the direction where Kajimoto stood quietly. Shinjou was getting ready it seemed, and no love was lost between the two as they crossed paths. With his trained eye, he could even see his friend smirk, provoking a reaction from the otherwise stoic favourite. This time though, he succeeded, and he saw the sudden widening of the taller man's eyes and the sideways glare he cast upon the back of Wakato's orange head.

He couldn't help but smirk. _Point._ He thought in amusement, mirth evident in his eyes as they met with his friend's equally gleeful ones.

Wakato winked discreetly.

And Kajimoto coughed in response, unable to hide further, earning an evil knowing glance from their coach.

_Oh well..._ He thought as the redhead sidled comfortably next to him. _At least it was fun._ With a quick movement, he grabbed Wakato's wrist and squeezed, letting go as easily as he had touched him.

_You did a great job, Hiro-chan._

**OxxxOxxxO**

The moment he heard the news, his world literally crumbled.

"What... did you say?" He asked numbly, hand still gripping chopsticks that held an elaborate octopus wiener.

Wakato stared at him grimly. "Sanada-san was felled by the first year Seigaku regular."

"I refuse to believe that." He heard himself say. It was as if he was floating and he was looking down at everything from a bird's eyes view. "Nobody can defeat that guy but his captain... and me."

"The papers never lie Takahisa."

"Yes it does. I remember that time when they mixed up Seigaku's Kaidoh and Echizen."

For some strange reason, everything boiled down to Seigaku. Silently he gritted his teeth and wondered what the deal was – it was as if fate was twisting the knife deeper into his gut, mocking him for not being the one to bring the guy on his knees outside of his team.

"It's hard to swallow, but this obsession you have must end, and this is the right time to do that."

"No." the Jyousei Shounan captain said slowly, determinedly. "I will make him acknowledge me, one way or another."

At that, Wakato laughed, shaking his head as he drew a couple of envelopes from his pocket. "Stubborn. You and your crusades." He remarked in between breaths. "Here, challenge him legally."

Suspiciously, he eyed them and finally, when he was sure they weren't going to do him harm, he put down his chopsticks and took them.

It was an invitation to the Junior High Tennis Camp.

All expenses paid.

A smile stole into Kajimoto's face as his shining eyes met Wakato's. The latter nodded and winked conspiratorially. "This is –"

"We'll be going together."

"Yes..."

"We're gonna have fun!"

"And train."

Wakato grinned gleefully. "And poke fun at Shinjou, since he's coming with us too!"

"And accumulate more tennis experience." He added warming up to their ideas.

"And fulfil your dream to best the anal-retentive stiff-hat."

By then, he was grinning ear to ear. "Right!"

"Then we're gonna be the happiest best friends in the whole wide world!"

* * *

**ENDE**

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMERS: The series I'm referring to does not belong to me… only this weird story does.
> 
> WARNING: An attempt at humour.


End file.
